


Through the Whiskey Glass

by inkillusions



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-16
Updated: 2011-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:57:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkillusions/pseuds/inkillusions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has four beers and two shots too many.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Whiskey Glass

**Author's Note:**

> It's vaguely slashy. Vaguely. YRMV (Your Reading May Vary), of course. Also, this was started before 'Playthings', so this is drunk Sam from my brain. It's set in S1 prior to 'Shadows'. And in reading it over many years later, I admit I'm a bit confused by it. I think drunk!Sam just showed up in my brain one night.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own no one or nothing. Kripke is The Man. I'm just playing with the boys.

Tonight had been one of those rare nights when Sam actually wanted to go to the bar with Dean and throw back a few drinks. Dean had looked at him like he had grown another head when he suggested it, but since Sam was paying for most of the rounds, he didn't complain. And Sam, well, there must have been something in the beer because while the first one tasted good, the second and third were much better. And the fourth? He wasn't even finished with it before the waitress walked past with a tray of shot glasses and he flagged her over and held up four fingers. She sat four of them on the table between them and smiled.

Dean gave her a wink before she walked away, then looked down at the four shot glasses on the table.

"You a little thirsty, Sammy?"

Sam gave him a half-smile as he lifted one of the shot glasses and proposed a toast, clanking it against Dean's glass.

"To us. A very rare breed."

"Amen to that."

Sam tossed the drink back then slammed the empty glass on the table, picking up a second from the table when he felt Dean's firm grip around his wrist.

"Whoa! What's gotten into you, bro? "

Sam pulled his wrist away, spilling half the whiskey in the process and the sound of Dean's laughter filtered through the muddled noise of the honky-tonk bar they had discovered in the middle of Boonietown, USA. Even with all of the background noise, Sam could hear the tinge of concern as he watched his brother rolling his empty shot glass between his fingers, the sight strangely hypnotic and comforting at the same time.

"Me?" Sam leaned forward, trying to keep his gaze on Dean steady as he replied, "I'm just weighing my options." He winked as he raised his shot glass again, offering up a toast to Dean. "Bro."

Sam tried his best to offer up a lopsided smile before tossing back his second shot, the burn oh-so-fucking-sweet as the liquor flowed down the back of this throat.

"Which are?"

Sam caught the cocked eyebrow and the look of intrigue in Dean's eyes, hazy though his vision was. That look was something that Sam had expected from Dean, and the giddiness that he felt over a bit of normalcy between them made Sam smile stupidly. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, releasing it to run his tongue along it, tasting the remnants of the whiskey that lingered there. The warmth that filled him made him feel mellow, his head heavy and unsorted and for now, that was what he needed most: feeling warm and calm with Dean looking at him like that. It felt so good.

Like home.

Sam closed his eyes, humming to himself as he relaxed into the buzz, the music getting louder until it was unrecognizable to him as even being music since he couldn't understand the words...

"Sam!"

He opened his eyes, surprised to feel Dean's hand on his shoulder shaking and shaking him, making it feel like he was in a fucking earthquake.

"What?!" Sam slapped the hand away with more force than he thought himself capable of, certainly more than was necessary.

"Dude, come on." Dean rolled his eyes and started tugging again, this time on Sam's jacket, pulling him involuntarily to his feet. "I'm taking you home."

Sam remembered being walk-dragged to the car and Dean folded him into the front seat, mumbling and cursing under his breath. Sam settled into his seat and pressed his cheek against the cool glass, staring out the window at the dark nothingness as Dean drove off. Taking them home.

"Home" was nothing more than a run-down motel they'd crashed at when they first came into Indiana. Sam couldn't even remember the name of the city – something off 80.

And when the fuck was the last time that either of them actually _had_ a real home? Sam'd had his place with Jess, but what about Dean? He never stayed anywhere long enough to put his toothbrush down on the same counter for more than a month. He wouldn't know anything about what "home" was.

Sam settled further into the seat, not wanting to delve too deeply into thoughts of home and Jess, and what he and Dean never had growing up and didn't have now. He knew the motel wasn't that far from the bar, but it was harder to stay awake. He closed his eyes – just for a minute - and the steady roll of the asphalt underneath the tires lulled him, taking him closer to Dreamland, making him not want to open his eyes ever again because it felt so damn comfortable......

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Wake up."

Sam's world tilted and Dean's hands were pulling him up and out and when the hell did the car stop?

"Man! This is the last time you're drinking for a while. Should have had them bring you Shirley Temples."

"Shut up," Sam spat, twisting in Dean's arms as he struggled to get to his feet.

"Will you just let me get you out of here?"

Sam stopped struggling, somehow making it onto his feet (with Dean's help) but he still felt wobbly as he walked. He leaned against the wall near their motel room door as Dean opened the door, the cracked plaster cool against his face. Once they made it inside, Dean steered Sam to his bed, helping him sit on the edge of it.

Sam looked down at Dean as he kneeled on the floor in front of him, untying his shoes and tossing them into the corner of the room. He pat him on his head and giggled, "Now, Dean. Are you sure maybe you didn't have too much to drink tonight?"

Dean looked up at Sam, a tight smirk on his face.

"Another word, smart ass, and you can do this yourself."

Sam chuckled, but he knew that Dean was serious, so he didn't say anything else when Dean stood and helped remove his jacket. He was so glad that his big brother was helping him do this. After all, if Dean wasn't there, who else would help him? Who else would be there if Sam needed help if he were drunk? Or hurt? Or...

"Damn it, Sam!"

He looked over at Dean - who was holding his eye.

"What?"

"You hit me, you bitch."

"'m sorry...." Now that Sam was sitting down, the alcohol was working its wonders on him and he felt so fucking good inside but so bad for hitting Dean who was only trying to help him and he reached out, taking Dean's hands in his and squeezing his fingers. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, yeah. You said that already."

Snatching his hands away, Dean grabbed the hem of Sam's shirts and pulled them over his head. Sam could have sworn that he heard the words 'layers' and 'put some meat on' come from his brother's lips, but he didn't care. Sam tried not to shiver when he felt Dean's fingers graze against his skin, but it was near impossible and he hummed as he lay on his back and settled on the bed.

"Dean?"

"What?" He sounded less angry now. That was a good thing.

"I'm glad you're here."

Dean laughed, "Where else would I be?"

That made Sam smile again and he looked up at Dean as he kneeled on the edge of the bed looking down on him, the dull light of the overhead light illuminating him like an angel. A beautiful angel that Sam wanted to touch and hold and taste and he reached up, grabbing the front of Dean's shirt and pulling him down on top of him.

"Sam? What the fuck -?"

Sam buried his face in Dean's neck and he just breathed because he smelled so fucking good and if Dean smelled that good, Sam knew that he tasted even better and he parted his lips and flicked his tongue, licking the side of that long neck.

"Mmm... You taste so good, Dean."

And Dean pushed away from Sam's chest, but he pulled him back down on him, and tightened his arms around him until Dean stopped squirming.

"Dude, you're so drunk. Let me go."

Sam shook his head like he used to do when he was five and Dean would tell him he had to go to bed because Dad said so, but Dad wasn't there so Sam didn't think that he had to do what he told him...

"No. I'm not letting you go. Not until -"

"Until what?"

"Until you say it."

"Say what?" Dean was still moving around in Sam's bear hug, but Sam knew that he had the advantage of a longer reach than his brother - who loved to make fun of his tallness anyway. Now it was coming in handy. And Sam could tell that Dean didn't really mind.

"Say that you taste good."

"What?!"

"Just say it." Sam buried his face in Dean's neck again and licked him once more, moaning at the taste of his skin.

"Oh for God's sake. I taste good. Freak."

"Mmm. You do."

And Sam realized that having the weight of Dean's body on top of his was so comfortable and solid and... home.

"Are you ever going to let me go, Sam?"

"No."

Dean sighed, rolling them onto their sides facing one another, his chin resting on the top of Sam's head. Sam settled in closer, letting the alcohol and the warmth of contentment wash over him when he felt Dean's arm go around him. Just before he slipped under, he heard Dean breathe into his hair, "Night, Sammy."

~end


End file.
